Archangel
by SlowQuotesQuill
Summary: AU. When Allied Forces pilot Mu La Flaga manages to take down the infamous "Archangel", a brilliant white Axis fighter plane that had an impressive record of shooting down many Allied planes, he didn't expect the pilot to be a female—and a very angelic one at that. ...Okay, maybe he should have. Mu/Murrue with a WW2 twist. Two-shot.
1. Part I

**Archangel**_  
_

* * *

_Though I cannot fly to the skies, I can give you my wings.  
They will say, "You're not alone anymore,"  
and the words will tear off your loneliness.  
Even pessimists can fall in love and be changed.  
If the path you have chosen reaches a dead end,  
then why not lose yourself there? _

—**Wings of Words**, CHEMISTRY

* * *

**PART I  
**

* * *

**I.** _Archangel_

The weather conditions were not the best, but ace pilot Mu La Flaga swore to himself that this is the day that he will be able to take down the white plane that he had been tailing for almost half an hour now. He wondered if the other pilot was getting tired as well, and then cursed as he noticed his gas gauge indicating that he was already running low. He just hoped that the _Archangel_, a Messerschmitt Bf 109 that they had so nicknamed because of its unusual color, was also running on its last sputter as well. He had lost his sense of direction about twenty minutes into the chase. He assumed that it was trying to steer him into Axis territory, but with the poor visibility, he can't be sure as well.

The _Archangel_—a brilliant white fighter plane that had claimed the lives of many in his squad and in others, it was now flying frantically before him, tantalizing with its white fuselage and wings, the red streaks of paint outlining the tail only serving to make it stand out more. Mu wondered why the Germans bothered to paint something like that with such unusual colors. Apparently, this was one reason why they chose a person with such good maneuvering skills to pilot it—it attracted attention and yet was harder to take down. A scapegoat of sorts. And yet, its white paint was making it hard to track down once already in the air. It blended against the clouds.

_Not now, though,_ Mu thought with a grim determination, noticing lightning arc in the distance. _Gray clouds are not good for white planes._

"God fucking _dammit_," he muttered under his breath as he followed the _Archangel_ into another sharp dive, and caught it neatly into his sights. Pulling the trigger, he watched with sick satisfaction as the bullets tore through the white plane's right engine, the sounds of the shots lost in the roar of thunder from the overcast sky. "Go down already, Axis bastard!"

The rain suddenly became heavier, pouring over the windshield in sheets as he followed the white plane down, down, down into the wild waves of the ocean below—Mu was beginning to think that this guy was looking for a death wish—when it pulled away at the last minute, barely getting itself caught in a huge rolling wave.

_His movements are getting more awkward._ Mu smiled grimly at having succeeded in partially incapacitating the enemy, and decided to move in for the kill.

Following closely, Mu set his sights once more and fired squarely at the tail, delighted when he saw smoke dissipate slowly from the _Archangel_ as it continued to fly away. _One more, and it's a goner,_ he reassured himself—and then it did something that he did not quite expect.

It made a sharp turn up and over him, the movement so fluid that it was already bearing down on him before he had the chance to react. The blast from its gondola cannon ripped off his left wing completely, sending him spiraling out of control.

_Shi—t!_

The darkness rushed up too quickly, swallowing him up and claiming him for its own.

* * *

**II.** _Amber_

If Mu La Flaga expected anything when he felt himself being roused from his unconsciousness, it was that he shouldn't have been feeling warm all over. Or that he shouldn't have been hearing rustling sounds from somewhere above him. Or that he shouldn't be feeling the aching as he shifted from the position that he was sure he had been for hours. Or that he shouldn't be feeling the sand scratching his skin.

Or that he shouldn't even have been alive. That final thought made him crack his eyes open, allowing his eyes to see a dim sliver of star-speckled sky. Somewhere, an orange light flickered and filtered over him. He could hear the crackling of burning wood as someone threw twigs over the fire. He didn't know what to think.

"Ah, so you're finally awake."

Okay, he certainly was dead, and perhaps resting in _heaven_, too. Mu turned his head to the source of the orange light and saw a silhouette beyond the fire. _That was definitely a female voice,_ he mused, and tried to get up, but his body seemed sluggish today and wouldn't listen to him. He opted to open his mouth instead, but all he can manage to produce was an ungainly croak.

Thankfully, the woman seemed to understand, and went over with a canteen in her hands. She was wearing a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and a blue knee-length skirt, and nothing much else. Mu watched her silently, his mind uncomprehending what was happening to him. When she proffered the straw to his lips, he drank gratefully and felt the liquid soothe his throat.

"Thanks," he managed to say, and when the woman nodded with a grave expression, Mu noticed how the firelight reflected off her eyes prettily. _Her eye color is certainly quite unusual,_ he thought, and then tried to recall what led to this situation.

"What… happened? To me? Who are you?" he asked gruffly, and her eyes flew up to rest on his face squarely, her chestnut hair framing her face in soft waves. Her lipstick seemed to have been worried off by her teeth, judging from the faint smudges left. Mu found himself staring shamelessly, again convinced that this must be heaven, and that this woman must be the angel God sent him.

_Angel. _

And then it clicked.

_The _Archangel_! What happened…? _

The woman seemed distracted as her hands fidgeted on her lap, and then looked up with a grim, determined look in her eyes. "You were the one piloting that interceptor, weren't you?"

Mu stared at her, his mouth half-open, and then asked the thing that first popped into mind. "How did you know what kind of aircraft that was? Who _are_ you?"

"I don't think you're in any position to ask me questions," she said in a suddenly harsh tone, and stood up. "You're with the Allies who attacked our base, right?"

"Your…?" And then Mu pieced everything odd about this situation together, coming up with a conclusion that he dared not believe. "_You're_ the pilot of the _Archangel_?"

"I don't know what 'Archangel' was supposed to mean," she said roughly, "but I _am_ the pilot of that Messerschmitt you've been tailing."

Mu just gawked at her for a long while, the seconds stretching, until the irony of the situation overwhelmed him and he burst into laughter.

"Wh-Why are you laughing?" the woman demanded with a flustered tone, making Mu laugh even louder. "I am being _serious_ here, you know!"

"That… is… certainly…" Mu coughed as he laughed, and sobered down enough to speak straight. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry," he quickly backtracked when she sent him a murderous glare. "I just… really didn't expect that a woman was piloting that thing. I mean, there are so few women pilots in my country, for example."

She seemed to calm down a bit, but Mu knew that one more slight and he would be giving her reason to detract the small bit of mercy that convinced her to save him instead of letting him die—he could almost swear that her fingers were itching to grab the pistol that was, he now saw, holstered on her waist.

His mind wandered for a safer topic. "Um, did you… do all this?" he asked, gesturing to his heavily bandaged torso and legs. "Okay, that was a stupid question… There's no one else here, isn't there?" He laughed lightly, but the woman's expression did not mellow further.

"Yes." Her answer was short, determined not to entertain him any further. Mu sighed, knowing that he wasn't going anywhere with her.

"Say, don't you think it's more beneficial for the two of us if we can speak freely?" he tried, trying to look as though he did believe in his argument. The woman hesitated, but Mu could see that she was also considering the query. "I mean, I don't think we're going to budge from here anytime soon."

She frowned. "We're enemies. I killed many of your friends, and you mine. Why are you doing this?"

"Correction," he raised a finger to emphasize his point. "Our countries are enemies with each other. However, I do concede the fact that we've killed many of each other's comrades in war." He sighed heavily. "Look, can't we talk about this and instead think of what to do in this situation? We're basically stranded in this place in the middle of nowhere!"

She pursed her lips, but Mu saw in relief that she had put the topmost priority first. "I still can't contact anyone by radio, so I don't think we can do anything but regularly check."

"What about the radio aboard my Curtiss?" Mu asked, turning his head up again to face the sky when his neck began to ache.

"Your plane was a wreck," she scoffed. "I practically had to wrestle you out from your seat, the metal was so twisted in some places that it obstructed an easy escape."

"You did?" Mu looked back at the woman, surprised at the way she managed to startle him again. "Whoa, you were serious about saving a guy like me, huh? Why? Would've been easier to leave me for dead."

"It's not because I wanted to!" she shot back, rubbing her arms as a cool breeze went through their makeshift camp. "It was just… I couldn't give up on someone who can still be saved. I… I just can't." She frowned unhappily, obviously embarrassed. Mu chuckled at the unexpected show of emotion, and held up his hands awkwardly when she glared back at him.

"You're an idealist," he said, relaxing as she dropped her gaze. "Aren't you?"

She tossed a branch into the fire and studied it intently. "Perhaps I am," she said finally. "I'm not the lesser for it."

"Well, in any case… You saved me." Mu stared into her eyes, but she didn't meet his gaze again. "Thank you."

The night closed on the pair of them staring into the depths of the firelight.

* * *

**III.** _Murrue_

Mu didn't know when exactly had he dozed off, but when he opened his eyes, it was already morning, and the sun was beating down uncomfortably on him.

"Hey!" he called, craning his neck to see a smoking pit where their fire used to be last night and no trace of the _Archangel_'s pilot. He turned his head the other way and saw something bright in the corner of his eye. Cursing a bit at the twinge as he moved, he slowly and painfully supported himself up on his arms and looked for the source of the light, and saw the fighter plane that he had considered an enemy for so long.

The _Archangel_ stood in the shallow part of the beach, the waves lapping at its white paint as it reflected the bright sunlight. Squinting to see more clearly through the light screen, Mu could see a figure in its cockpit, perhaps the woman checking for nearby aircraft or sea vessels. Collapsing on the sand, he sighed, and then noticed that a coat was covering his torso. Pulling it up to see a dull blue military coat, he let out an amused sigh.

_Enemy she might insist herself to be, but she's certainly too soft to be an ordinary pilot. _

"Good morning," he suddenly heard her call out from the distance, and Mu watched her come into his line of sight. Her skirt was soaked through with salt water, turning it into an even darker blue.

"We're in a good mood today, aren't we, ma'am?" he said jokingly, judging that she'll take his tone in a better state of mind with that small smile now adorning her face.

She flushed slightly. "No… just… I was thinking about what you said yesterday night, and I decided that you were right. We should be working together for the meantime for a way out of this predicament."

"Ah. I see." Mu looked amused as she flushed deeper at her confession. Evidently the elite pilot of the _Archangel_ was an ordinary person out of the plane. "Then let's start again, shall we?" He pushed himself up with an arm, more easily this time, and held out a hand. "My name is Lieutenant Mu La Flaga. I'm from the—"

"No, just your name is enough," she said, holding out a hand to quiet him. "I'd rather not know which squadron you came from, if that's fine with you."

"Okay then," Mu said easily, and shrugged. "What about you?"

"I'm Lieutenant Murrue Ramius," she said simply, and took his hand to give it a firm shake.

"So, truce for the meantime it is," Mu said, and with some of Murrue's help, dragged himself to a nearby tree to shade himself from the sun and lean against the trunk. "So, I noticed that you were working the radio earlier. Any hopes?"

"Not yet," Murrue sighed, sitting on the sand and drawing her knees up to her chest. "I've been checking every other hour, but I don't think I'm reaching anyone so far."

"I see." Mu looked thoughtful. "Then we're just going to stay here for a while longer."

"Well, that's certainly one way to put it," Murrue replied, smiling a bit. "Perhaps you are already hungry, Lieutenant?"

"Hey, we're both lieutenants here," Mu laughed. "This could be confusing."

"It's quite involuntary, after a while of being around with other officers," Murrue said, and she sighed once more. Mu noticed how much she sighed for someone as young as she evidently was.

"I know how that feels," Mu chuckled. "And to answer your question, yes. Now that you mention it, I am famished."

They had a simple lunch of roasted fish that Murrue had caught, with Mu making small talk and Murrue smiling at his weak jokes in spite of herself. Mu was surprised at how easy it was to talk to her now that she had let down some of her walls. Murrue had a unique quality that somehow made him at ease, that somehow convinced him that she was truly interested in what he was saying. Maybe she was faking it, but Mu couldn't just see how someone with Murrue's painfully honest eyes can pull that off.

"Would you mind if I ask you a rather personal question?" Mu asked tentatively as they rested after eating, the sound of the waves their only music. Murrue looked up with a mildly curious expression, and then shrugged.

"Well, if it's _too_ personal, I won't answer," she compromised. Mu thought for a while to think of how best to word his question.

"…Why would someone like you pilot a fighter plane?" he finally asked haltingly, and swallowed as her face fell.

"It _is_ odd, isn't it?" she said idly, watching her toes. "I mean, before the war, I was a school teacher in Lithuania."

"Lithuania?" Mu frowned. "I see. The Germans attacked its capital a couple years back, didn't they?" He smiled crookedly. "That also explains why you have quite the accent."

Murrue smiled sadly. "My father was a staunch supporter of the Axis. He was one of the resistance leaders against the Soviets. He called the Germans 'liberators.'" She fell silent, and looked up at the bright blue of the sky. "When the Germans occupied our city and called citizens to arms, my family was the first to react. I knew my father would have wanted a son of his to join the army if he had one, so I did instead." She laughed shortly, and then sighed. Mu didn't know why she was telling him all of this, but figured that she knew that he, a stranger, had no reason to repeat what she was saying—and it looked as though all of this had been bothering her for a long time already. "I entered the Luftwaffe Medical Corps and made my way up from there."

"Medical Corps, huh…" Mu muttered. "I would have figured something like that. A person like you wouldn't become someone fighting on the frontlines so readily. And you were a school teacher…" He chortled. "For some reason, the teacher image fits you pretty well—glasses and a pointer. So Schoolma'am Murrue Ramius it was?"

Murrue blushed furiously. "You didn't have to phrase it like that!"

Mu thought about how entertaining it was becoming to tease this woman, so gentle and yet so ferocious at the same time, and burst into a laugh as Murrue stood up and walked off in a huff, muttering something about wanting to look over the radio again. At least, he figured, she had already broken loose of her evident depression if she can react like that.

"Cute," he found himself muttering to himself, and bit his lip as he realized what he just said.

* * *

**PART I END**


	2. Part II

**Archangel**

* * *

_In the never-ending course of the seasons,  
__wouldn't it be nice if we could freeze time at that one moment?  
__The two of us, while still wandering,  
__are searching for love in the far corners of the darkness._

—**Moment**, Vivian or Kazuma

* * *

**PART II**

* * *

**IV.** _Mu_

The heat of the sun mellowed as the afternoon wore on in their third day on the island. Mu was thankful for that, since Murrue insisted in rationing the water they had (which were quite sufficient for a few more days at least, in Mu's opinion), she being a rather cautious person when it came down to it. Mu watched her back as she waded into the water, her blue Luftwaffe coat fluttering on her shoulders loosely and making her look as though she actually had wings.

_An archangel… huh? _

"Miss Murrue?" he called out, deeming the silence unbearable at long last. She turned back, her lips parted in an expression of puzzlement, and he grinned sheepishly at her. "Care to keep me company again? My leg can't really allow me to wander off and enjoy myself like what you're doing."

"Sorry," she said meekly, beaming and turning back to approach him. Mu noticed how she absently touched a silver pendant that hung from a chain around her neck. "It's just… the sky is so pretty."

"You don't seem worried, from what I see," Mu said curiously, seeing Murrue sit across him and hum contentedly. "Most people would have been freaking out by now."

"Not really. I've been through worse. At least we have no shortage of food and drinking water." Murrue laughed. "This might sound funny, but it feels as though I'm on vacation. This island is certainly peaceful, as though cut off from the rest of the world. As though the war is so far away." She glanced at Mu questioningly. "By the way, there's something I had been meaning to ask you."

"Ask away." Mu held his hands up in a gesture of submission. "I did ask you earlier, so it's just fair. What I was doing before the war, number of girlfriends—"

"Number of—?" Murrue coughed awkwardly, and Mu hid a smile. "Anyway, no, nothing as personal as that." She gestured to the white plane on the beach, its paint reflecting back the soft sunlight and making it almost blinding. "Why… Why 'Archangel', if you will?"

"Dunno. Some guy from my squad just came up with the name after seeing the color, and it kind of stuck," Mu said slowly, tapping his chin as he thought. "But then an archangel is supposed to oversee nations, right? And I've noticed that you become a rallying point for your comrades whenever our sides come into battle. Your plane becomes a symbol." Mu's voice tapered off, leaving Murrue frowning thoughtfully at what he had just said.

"I see." Murrue's breath came out in a rush, as though she had been holding it in. "I didn't know Allied soldiers could be so poetic," she added, mischievously.

"Wouldn't be scoring with the girls if I wasn't, ma'am," he returned her serve, his eyes as full of mischief as hers, and making her blush again. "And doesn't 'Archangel' sound better than 'Messerschmitt'? I mean…"

Murrue conceded defeat with a girlish giggle that made Mu break out in a smile.

"All right, you win." Murrue got up on her feet and rolled up her sleeves, as they were in danger of unraveling again. "But I guess… _Archangel_ does sound like a beautiful name for a plane. Makes you think about what it could look like, and how fast and far it can fly. It makes you think of something that can come to the aid of others."

"Which you did for me," Mu said in a quiet voice, and wondered if Murrue didn't hear or just pretended she didn't.

They fell in friendly silence after that, just watching the sky as the sun made its slow descent to the horizon and bathe everything in a golden-red light. Mu eyed the _Archangel_, its hull and wings painted red in the sunset, and thought about the strength of will that it might have taken someone to fly a plane like that. A plane that was supposed to carry the dreams of every person it supported in battle and the cries of revenge of every life it took. A plane that was as white as it was black.

Mu turned his gaze upon this walking contradiction of a woman who called herself Murrue Ramius, and wondered how a spine of steel could possibly lie underneath those soft eyes.

The night arrived like a shadow descending over the water, and soon they again sat across each other with a fire crackling between them. Murrue looked as though she was a whole new person from the sullen soldier that she had been only yesterday night, as though in unburdening herself to the Allied pilot that she had considered an enemy, she had also shed the labels that defined who was friend and who was foe.

"Say… Lieutenant…"

Mu looked up from the fish he was nibbling disinterestedly, and saw Murrue staring at him with those wonderful amber eyes. "Why're you staring at me like that? Fall in love with me?" he joked, and had his reward when Murrue flushed, the healthy color in her cheeks accentuated by the glow of the firelight.

"I… I was just curious about your story, as well," Murrue quickly said, as though to brush off his flirtatious remark, and Mu found it interesting how she did not try to deny it like how someone usually would. "What made you decide to become a… well, a pilot?"

"Hmm. That's easy—it was my childhood dream, after all. To become a pilot." Mu smiled wistfully, and Murrue was captivated by how earnest his expression became as he was lost in the tide of memories. "Didn't you think when you were a kid about how free someone can be with wings? I used to dream about it all the time, flying through the sky, without a single care in the world. And I decided that being a pilot was the next best thing to having wings." He looked down at his hands, and clenched them into fists. "My father was a rich man, didn't want me to go and die for the country because I was all he had for an heir, but I wanted to cut loose, to be my own man." He met Murrue's eyes, noticing that they were somehow downcast. "Oi, oi, don't look like that. I'm happy. I really am."

Murrue laughed quietly. "Yes," she replied, honestly. "I suppose you are."

Mu put his hands behind his head and sat back against the tree. "Y'know, this is kinda surreal…"—Murrue shot him a questioning look—"I mean, two days ago, I wouldn't have imagined sitting down to talk with the pilot of the _Archangel_ about this stuff. All of the guys back at our base hated how good you were. I would've given a lot to see their faces if they knew you were piloting the thing."

"_I_ wouldn't have imagined sitting down to talk with any Allied soldier, for that matter," Murrue remarked, and shivered as the breeze got stronger. "But yes, this is quite curious. It was like… it was like someone somehow decided that we should both get stranded on this island together after fighting one another. And miraculously get along, after all that."

"Perhaps because we found that we're actually similar?" Mu cocked an eyebrow and grinned.

"Similar?"

Mu stared into the fire. "Yeah. I mean, didn't both of us become soldiers because we were trying to escape from something?"

Murrue watched him silently a long time after that, before deciding to say, very quietly, "Yes, I suppose we are."

* * *

**V.** _Moment_

Later, as they lay side-by-side, with only the blue Luftwaffe coat separating them from each other, Murrue contemplated about why she felt as though she was so familiar with this man beside her—this man she formerly branded as an unnamed enemy just a day ago. Now she knew his name, his rank, even his reasons for fighting in this war. It unsettled her. Murrue had never been this unsure before. Had never been this free to question something.

She lay silently on her place, her eyes faraway as she seemed to think deeply about something. The sand felt scratchy to her bare legs. "Lieutenant," she said finally, "will there be someone to wait for you to come back?"

Mu's lips dropped into a half-smile. "I ran away from home and am living on my own ever since, so… I don't think so. Unless you count the remaining guys at base, but then we're always looking out for each other because every day is an uncertainty."

"Mm." Murrue seemed too restless to sleep. Mu looked sideways and noticed how she kept holding the same silver pendant she'd been holding that morning in the past minute, and decided to draw attention to what was so obviously distracting her.

"Say, that necklace…"

"A remembrance." She had looked surprised at finding her fingers reflexively caressing the metal, and tried to speak dismissively. "My father gave this to me before I left for the army. It reminds me to always do my best to come back home and give this back to him." Another sigh, this time one that seemed to shake her very being. "Though, I wonder if I had done the right thing in pleasing him. Now that I look at you, I realize that there were also living, breathing people in the planes that I shot down. And is it wrong of me to be thinking such things? Am I…" She took a deep breath. "Am I already betraying my side?"

Mu exhaled sharply. "I don't know anything much about these kinds of things, but… Isn't it because you are alive that you can worry about those things? Isn't it because you are human? Don't condemn yourself for being human."

Murrue seemed to think this over. At last, she managed to lift the corners of her mouth in a weak smile.

"I _should_ be thankful for that, shouldn't I?"

Mu smiled at Murrue's reassured tone, and fell silent, listening to the waves breaking on the beach. A long minute passed, and Murrue was beginning to think that Mu was already asleep when he suddenly spoke.

"You still awake?"—gruffly.

Murrue decided to ask to draw his attention away from the depth of her thoughts, having had gleaned how perceptive he had been in their past conversations. "Can I ask you one more thing, Lieutenant?"

"Fire away," was Mu's muffled answer.

Murrue wondered if he was finally half-asleep. "How many girlfriends _have_ you had?"—half-jokingly.

"Before, or after?" Mu instantly sat up with a grunt, and looked down upon Murrue as she reacted by getting up as well, startled at his sudden movement. His blue eyes were twinkling.

"Before or after what?" Murrue asked tentatively, and let out a squeak as Mu suddenly moved in and touched his lips lightly to hers. Her hands reflexively shot to his shoulders, but did not push him away.

Mu drew away, grinning at Murrue's expression, which was still frozen in shock. "Before or after _that_."

"I—" Murrue tried to look deeply offended, but the bright blush in her cheeks was apparent. "I'm not too fond of Allied soldiers!"

"Oh?" Mu just chuckled, and leaned so that his forehead was touching Murrue's. She merely met his eyes with an almost awestruck gaze, seemingly unable to react from this sudden turn of events. "Then I guess I'll just have to do something about that."

He sealed his statement with another kiss.

* * *

**VI.** _Home_

The next morning dawned upon Mu waking up to find Murrue gone from his side, the crashing of the waves assuaging his sense of hearing. When he heard splashing somewhere behind him in the distance, he immediately knew that Murrue had been attempting to contact nearby ships again, and wondered if it had been a success this time.

Murrue told him her news immediately, which served to answer his query.

"I've made contact," Murrue exclaimed when she came back, her skirt drenched again with water and hanging limply just below her knees. "It's a ship. An Allied one, so I gave them your name. Is that fine?"

"Yeah," Mu shrugged. "I mean, anything to get us out of this mess."

"Well, that was what has me thinking." Murrue laughed a little. "You know, it would be better if only you would board that ship." Seeing Mu look suddenly at her, she frantically shook her head. "I'm in a Luftwaffe uniform. It's safer for you to go alone. Safer for us both. You could be served treason for fraternizing with an enemy soldier."

"I don't care about that treason crap," he said harshly, but Murrue frowned.

"You would be saving me as well," she reasoned out, in the harsh tone that so clashed with her usually meek features. "And you need immediate medical attention. Your leg is not doing so well. I want you to _live_, Lieutenant."

Mu watched a lone tear drop down her face, and looked away with a bitter expression, knowing that with his condition, Murrue could still carry out her intention to have him leave first without much difficulty. "Okay, then," he surrendered, making her face light up. "You better live as well, understand?"

"Of course," she said, and hesitated before reaching into her shirt. Mu raised his eyebrows when he saw her fingers draw out the silver chain, with a very familiar hexagonal pendant at the end of the loop. She unclasped it from around her neck and fastened the chain around his, the pendant with its rose sliding to rest at his chest.

"This…" Mu withdrew his hand and wrapped his fingers around the metal, still warm from Murrue's body heat, and looked up to meet Murrue's amber eyes. "But isn't this important to you? Weren't you saving this for when you come back home?"

Murrue shook her head. "You still don't understand, Lieutenant?" She placed her hand over his hand where the pendant rested, directly above his heart. "I _am_ home." She gave his hand a quick squeeze, before darting a look at the horizon. "I gave them some coordinates. They might be there any time now. They were pretty close from here." She proffered her shoulder. "Lean on me. We have to get there before them."

Mu and Murrue stood up with some effort, Mu transferring his weight on to Murrue and surprised at how she seemed to support his weight without flinching, as though she was used to this kind of chore already. Making their way around to the northern tip of the island, they saw a vague gray shape in the distance and knew that the time of parting was at hand.

Murrue exhaled, and nodded before setting Mu down on the sand and kneeling before him. "Take care, Lieutenant La Flaga."

"You as well, Lieutenant Ramius." Mu raised his hand in a salute, and Murrue returned it, coupled with a small smile. Then, Murrue dropped the smile with her hand, her expression conflicted.

"We'll meet again, Mu."

"That we will… Murrue." Mu suddenly found himself catching his breath.

Murrue just smiled and left him on the beach, and Mu watched her back until she disappeared in the distance. By the time she had vanished from his line of sight, the sound of the ship's horns sounding behind him made him turn to where rescue waited, to where his allies waved at him.

"You got lucky!" one of the volunteers exclaimed when they hauled him from the raft to the ship. "Must've been watched over by your stars, must've."

"Really?" Mu smiled wistfully, and watched the island grow smaller behind them. His hand was absently grasping the pendant, which seemed very heavy now on his chest. "I think it's an angel."

_A really beautiful one._

* * *

**VII. **_1947_

"It's still not running," Mu La Flaga called out after giving the key in the ignition a sharp turn and eliciting no response from the engine. Frowning, he stuck his head out sideways and gave the mechanic a puzzled look. "You sure the cylinders were the problem?"

Kojiro Murdoch scratched his head, his eyebrows drawn together in a scowl. "If the problem wasn't the cylinders…"

It was 1947, and Mu found himself staring out in the depressing summer rain, wearing casual clothing for a day out in the streets. He could have enumerated all of the reasons why he thought that the heavens seemed intent on putting a damper on his plans, and one was the unresponsive dark blue car behind him. He had managed to get Murdoch, one of his oldest mechanic friends, on the case, but it wasn't going too well.

Mu sighed, and got out of the car to give it a disappointed glance. "What is it with this car? She was running fine yesterday, and now she's acting up all of a sudden…" He put his hands in his pockets, his gaze momentarily distracted by a Jeep that wheeled into the garage. "Murdoch, what should—"

"Oh, it's Maria!" Murdoch exclaimed, and shrugged at Mu. He jerked a thumb at the slight figure that climbed out of the Jeep. "I think you better let her handle it. Pretty handy for something like this. Usually gets everything running in no time."

Mu watched as the woman turned slightly to look at Murdoch as the man approached her, clothed in an unassuming yellow T-shirt and loose, dark green pants, her matching cap turned low and effectively shielding her eyes from view. It was not until the two mechanics turned simultaneously to look at his direction did he realize that he knew her.

Knew her from almost two years ago, in fact.

"Mur—?" he was about to gasp, when the woman stretched out an open hand and smiled warmly.

"Maria Bernes," she interrupted him pointedly, and Mu took her hand with a surprised look. As Murdoch turned away and told her all about the car and what he had already tried to do to fix it, Mu could swear that she gave him a tiny wink.

"So, think you can fix it?" Murdoch said, and Murrue—Maria?—nodded cheerfully.

"Could be a bit tricky, but let me handle this for a bit." As Maria started her work, her short-sleeved shirt exposing her considerably thin arms, Mu put an arm around Murdoch's shoulders and steered him out of her earshot.

"Where did you find someone like her?" Mu asked in urgent tones, and Murdoch laughed.

"Oh, taken a liking to her, eh?" Murdoch grinned at Maria's direction. "Well, she _is_ good-looking, I'll admit. Half my boys are lining up to ask her out, and the other half had already done so, but all she's given them were negatives for an answer. 'Spect she's one of those waiting for their boys to come back home. Good worker, smart mechanic for someone her age. Mebbe worked in them plane hangars during the war, seeing how she's so handy with a wrench." Seeing Mu steal another uncertain glance at Maria, he shrugged. "Just showed up here at the shop one day looking for work. I could've turned her down, but then I figured most of the women lost their jobs after this derned war. Took pity on her."

"I see." Mu was silent for a while, but then Maria called out and waved a dirty gloved hand, her lips turned in a grin that made his heart miss a beat.

"Oh, good work," Murdoch exclaimed when Mu turned the key and the blue car started without a hitch. "I knew you could do it."

Maria was then telling them what she had done to make the car work, but Mu wasn't listening particularly hard to her words—only to her voice, which sounded foreign to him after the long, long period of not hearing it.

_Has her voice been this sad before? This… kind, even? _

"Well, Mu?" Murdoch called, effectively dragging him back to reality. "How's that?"

"It's great," he replied, and paid the fee. When Murdoch was going to the office to make out the receipt and retrieve the change, he glanced back at Maria, and saw that she was giving him a quiet smile.

"So, you're Maria now," he said, awkwardly.

"For the past two years." Maria shrugged dismissively. "I went home after the war. By then, the Soviets had already reclaimed the town, and some of my father's followers begged me to go out of the country. They were burning all the German flags in the streets… and I _had_ been a soldier under them once. I would have been tried and executed for my crimes against the Allies. So I did the wise thing and heeded their advice. I secured a fake passport and papers by their help. Went here and became a mechanic." She smiled sadly. "I guess being actively involved in my plane's repairs had been handy."

"You know, I went searching for you the moment they declared the end," Mu said haltingly. "I even had a friend at the higher offices look for you in the pilot listings of the Luftwaffe. Tracked your town in Lithuania. But…"

"…You wouldn't have found me," she finished his sentence for him. "Murrue Ramius would not have existed anymore."

"Yeah. So that's why." Mu hesitated, and put his hand inside his shirt to grasp a silver chain, with the pendant on the end. "I had meant to return this to you, but since you had disappeared…"

Maria—no, she most certainly was his Murrue now, with those soft, soft eyes—looked upon the pendant, her mouth half-open in surprise. "You still have it…"

"Well, who was the one who originally treasured it in the first place anyway?" Mu grinned. "Here," and he unclasped the chain to put around her neck, the gesture reminding him irresistibly of how she had given it to him in the first place. "I'm home."

Murrue smiled through her tears, and grabbed him into an embrace. Mu could feel the tears soaking his shirt. "Thank you," he heard her murmur thickly.

Mu kissed her tearstained face when she looked up, and made her blush pink. Laughing, Mu slid his arms around her, remembering how adorable Murrue could be when flustered.

"I-I did say that I'm not too fond of Allied soldiers," Murrue mumbled shyly, and Mu smiled softly, and tightened her grip around her waist.

"Oh, good thing I'm not one right now."

And he leaned down to give her another kiss.

* * *

**END**


End file.
